Possession
by Rinkashi Namiki
Summary: Slightly AU. Ashram seeks out an elfin goddess in a cold, cruel world that he believes could help change it for the better; not knowing how to find this goddess or that he could come to love her despite what she is. Please review.
1. Chapter 1

Possessed.

As black and rich as velvet, the night sky held its' stars like speckling diamonds. They shone with brilliance and radiance despite the machinic surroundings… Or perhaps in spite of it. Light laughter and even lighter steps could be heard fluttering about the unused and neglected machinery, bouncing and reverberating around it. She paused for a moment to dance and twirl whimsically. She was feeling the euphoria of the planet with every turn of her graceful, impromptu and unrehearsed ballet. The stars sang brilliantly as the planet hummed itself a lullaby. Even he could not resist to join her in dancing; breaking apart from his hardened soldieristic mentality. She never failed to bring out the child of the earth hidden within him just as he always brought out the somber warrioress in her.

Lightly chuckling, he wove an arm around her waist as she took up the other to dance in the night to music only they could hear. As they continued their dance together, he took all of her into himself longingly- her rich creamy skin that seemed to melt into her pale lacey white gown that rivaled the stars in gem-like brilliance and her opera gloves that left all but her ring fingers open. He admired the way her pale white leather boots clung past her calves up to her thighs and how the moon shone off of the circlet that hid beneath her unearthly white-silver hair only to emerge on her forehead, dangling pale jewels like raindrops on her forehead. Her dress clung low to her bosom as she swayed in time to celestial music with her thick coordinated choker that encased her slender neck in unrivaled beauty. He loved that he had this moment in the night alone with her- his only reason for being. Their dance slowed to a stop as she gazed at him from under her thick lashes with her feline eyes, the starlight giving life to the jewels on her temples. Giving in to temptation, he brought his face closer to hers so that he could steal a kiss from his goddess. His lips touched hers, and as the majestic sensation clung to him for life, everything faded.

Stumbling, Ashram outstretched his arm, trying to keep contact with his fading goddess, and all too soon, he forgot why he had even stopped walking in the downtrodden generator district.


	2. Chapter 2

"L-Lord Ashram! Beld has been awaiting your return from the mainland… what news do you bring us?" Pirotess stood from her spot on the window ledge and straightened her new pale cream outfit. She had gotten it in hopes that her beloved Lord would finally take notice of her. She had been fighting for years to be close and to keep her place next to Lord Ashram even though he never really seemed to notice her.

Ashram looked toward the elfin woman that seemed to be addressing him. Seeing her cream clothing, a brief spark of a longing memory came to, and left him. Caught unprepared by the fleeting glimpse, he let his gaze linger longer than he should have on the woman.

"I apologize.. But you said something, Miss..?"

Empowered by Ashram's actions, Pirotess boldly stepped nearer to Lord Ashram, and then bashfully announced, "Pirotess. My name is Pirotess. Emperor Beld assigned me to be your aide some years ago. He's been awaiting your return from the mainland. Everyone here is curious about what news you may bring for us."

Furrowing his brow, Ashram tried to make sense of the glimpse while responding to this 'Pirotess,' "I see. Tag along if you wish- but do not get in my way."

Languidly walking past her, Ashram looked over his shoulder and absently muttered, "Jewels… You should wear more jewelry, Pirotess."

In a bittersweet bliss, Pirotess obediently fell in step a few paces behind Ashram and followed him through the corridors to Emporer Beld's private chambers as Ashram's suggestion floated through her mind.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I'm quite tired, so I honestly did a free-write for this chapter. Pardon the non-seriousness of this segment.

* * *

Pirotess was wearing a magnificent opal ballgown in a sea of the somber silks that the other ladies of the court were wearing. If she had been any other girl, she would have felt she was being superfluous, but nothing was too superfluous for her if it would get the attention of _her_ Lord Ashram. The jewels on her forehead glittered in the dim lighting of the chandelier as she twirled without care of the rhythm set by the quartet. Ashram walked into the room, not wearing his cape or his armour and instead a charming suit made of black silk. He scanned the crowd, disinterested, until he locked eyes with her. Without hesitation, he made his way through the throngs of dancing people never once taking his eyes off of Pirotess. When Ashram reached her, he took up her hand and waist in preparation for a dance and leaned closer to her ear to say in a husky voice,

"Pirotess. Are you skilled in weaponry or at least in magic?"

Pirotess was struck out of her daydreaming by her Lord's question.

"Yes, I am, Lord Ashram." Pirotess faltered, fumbling for the correct answer.

Ashram closed his eyes in slight annoyance as he replied, "That was not a "yes" or "no" question. I'll ask again. Pirotess, are you skilled in weaponry or at least in the magicks?"

Pirotess' ears burnt red with embarrassment. She didn't want to be called out on her daydreaming. "I am skilled in both weaponry and magick, my Lord."

Ashram 'Hmm'd his approval as he read over a letter a messenger had given him just moments before.

"Well then, Pirotess. Bring with you what is needed. We're going to the mainland." Ashram turned on his heel, cape flowing majestically, and walked out of the immaculate entryway of his family home and into the study.

Pirotess exhaled in relief- she hadn't been caught daydreaming, after all. As she stood to go gather her equipment she absently wondered if Ashram ever wore anything besides his armour.

* * *

Safely locked away in his windowless study, Ashram peeled himself out of the heavy armour he'd been wearing since the Gods knew when, intent on relaxing for the rest of the day. He sat gingerly in his overly large chair; properly at first, but soon sliding down into a very unpresentable slouch. His stomach chose then to growl relentlessly and Ashram rubbed at his stomach absently, cursing how thin he'd let himself become over his recent trip to and from the mainland. Rolling his neck from side to side, Ashram built up the willpower to stand and looked forlornly at the pile of metal he'd just removed. Damning the black metal plates, Ashram strapped his sword around his hips and donned his cape. He doubted anyone would see, care, or attack him in his home while he went to the kitchen and scavenged for food like the mangy dog he currently felt like.

Just as his unusually ungloved hand touched the handle of the door, a smart rap resounded from the other side. Looking down at his attire, he cursed again. Leather pants, boots, sword, cape. He was practically naked and felt a bit like some flippant boy attending a distorted clerical event. Deciding that today was a wonderful day to damn himself, he opened the door nevertheless, assuming that the messenger boy had forgotten something.

Pirotess' hand froze mid-knock as the study door opened with a particular flourish to reveal an image that put most of her fantasies to shame. Ashram stood regally- naked hands and arms and chest. Pirotess gulped noiselessly as her ears flattened against her head. She felt like she was invading upon some very private and very delectable territory. Her eyes stole moments to rake in Ashram's body before her muddled mind remembered what she had come to ask of her Lord Ashram. Her eyes betrayed her and trained themselves on his protruding hips as she listlessly asked,

"Are you hungry?"  
Pirotess cringed. She had not, in fact, meant to say that.

Ashram furrowed his brow- Did this Pirotess actually just-  
"Pardon?"

Sensing a moment to redeem herself, Pirotess spoke a little louder, intending to ask when they were to depart for the mainland.

"I asked if you were hungry." Pirotess cringed inwardly as she berated herself. _Damnit, not what I came here to ask.  
_  
Ashram blinked several times. Pirotess would not have come to ask him something so… flippant. Nonetheless, he responded.  
"Yes."


	4. Chapter 4

For Darkrini

Pirotess was waging an internal war. She was elated that her Lord wanted to dine with her, but furious that she was mucking about in the kitchen like a common scullery girl. The ferocious and fearless Pirotess, losing her head over a human man. Brandishing twin daggers, Pirotess started hacking away at one of the cured meats.

Ashram, in a fresh shirt, stood by a far doorway. He watched Pirotess attacking the hanging meat with her daggers. She obviously was not one for domestic affairs, but at least followed his orders. Ashram smirked at some distant thought, caught in thought.

Pirotess tensed. Something was not right. Slowly turning her head, she realized she was no longer in the mansion's pantry. Her surroundings had been bewitched. Lowering into a defensive stance, Pirotess scanned the new surroundings with suspicion.

A lace-clad hand appeared at her left. Pirotess was too slow. The hand gently placed a finger to her forehead, transferring thoughts and memories both familiar and foreign. Light surrounded her. Feeling drugged, Pirotess looked down. She was in strange clothing in pale creams with gold accents, long white gloves and even taller boots. She turned her head from side to side and felt a light jingling on her brow. Gingerly touching her hair, she realized she was wearing a diadem. Her dress consisted of immodestly thin strands of fabric covering her bosom flowing down into a short skirt. Her arms were covered in delicate silver markings that upon closer inspection were thin silver wires.

Pirotess looked to her surroundings again. She was in some moonlit dew garden, just outside of an elegant party. Festive music was drifting out to her. She felt out of time and place. The people spoke in tongues unknown to her. The people wore extremely old clothing. Nothing about the people seemed familiar. A sharp pain slashed through her head, causing her to stumble. Scenes of war and death and famine flashed in front of her eyes.

A pale man in dark garb walked out to her, took her arm and asked questions in another language. The man gently ushered her inside and gave her a clear drink. Pirotess shook her head, trying to clear the drugged feeling. Snips of reality came back. It was silent. She was sitting down. Her Lord Ashram was urging a glass of water on her.

And like the power had turned back on, the music came back. Scents of the party were back. Every face was blurred out, save one. A man; a tall, pale man in armour stormed into the building. He was shouting, and then the people panicked. Screams filled the room. She ran in her flimsy web-like gown and dainty shoes. She pulled a scimitar off of a stunned man, arming herself. Something was coming.

Pirotess aligned the scimitar with the center of her body, point near her nose. With her free hand, she molded her forefingers into a symbol aligned with the sword. She started chanting. A barrier forced itself from her, rushing past the frantic partiers and encircling the estate she was in. The man in dark armour rushed to her with fear in his eyes.

The ground began to shift. Somehow, Pirotess knew where she was- her kingdom. The ground was shifting, and she was protecting them all. She was forcing Marmo away from the mainland.


End file.
